


Redeemed

by AsfaHan



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 05:33:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11284725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsfaHan/pseuds/AsfaHan
Summary: After college, everyone left and Andrew found himself alone but for his car. With no more responsibilities and promises to keep, he tries to lead a bland life with a tedious job. But life has never been bland with him and he ends up stuck with an interesting stranger.Neil is finally able to live on his own after moving out from his uncle’s house. Running away from his nightmares lead him to a change that he’ll be forever grateful for.*****An Au where Neil has a different past, but he ends up meeting Andrew due to strange circumstances.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Andrw_Jstn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andrw_Jstn/gifts).



> I have no idea where i’m going with this, but.. yeah.  
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my friend, Lea. I hope you enjoy this little present that would’ve never gotten posted if it weren’t for your birthday.
> 
> Edit: a big thank you to Lea and @c-e-d-dreamer for making this readable.

He woke up crying. The threads of the dream kept him hostage, never letting him go. The same. The same memory playing in the back of his head, someone laying on the floor, him screaming his cords to flaccidity. Someone repeating his name, a name he long ago shed to escape the same demons that keep haunting him. The same smile that he would never put again on his face.

He couldn't stop the flow of the tears, or the chattering of his teeth. Breathing was getting more and more difficult. His clenched fists were starting to ache. It was a deep sorrow that he felt for no other person but for her, and she was gone. She was gone, and he was left alone, a shattered piece that never found it's wits to come together once more.

So he did the only thing that he was good at, the only thing that might have been able to chase away his dreams, or more like, get him away from them: he ran.

__________________________________

 

It was late in the night, or was it early in the morning? What was the difference to begin with? If everything just collided together and made an incoherent day of events. Twenty four hours of nothingness to fill your brain with endless scenarios. Everything was going in slow motion, but everything passed like a blur nonetheless. Someone had to come up with a new time unit for him.

He just came back from work. Huh, work! If that's what you call sitting on a chair all day watching surveillance feeds when nothing really happens. True, people come and go, do their business and walk away again. They might come back, they might take longer, or change their minds and never come in in the first place. And he'll just sit there, do nothing.

Two years now, two fucking whole years of his life are filled with same moments of other people's lives. In and out. In and then out. On repeat, forever, nonstop. It was better than his past, early past, where he wouldn't let himself be dragged to that dark corner in his mind. But the scars on his forearms would never let him forget. So he'd repeat those boring feeds over and over again. In, Out. Everything was that way no matter how you look at it. Money? Comes and goes. In and Out. Family? Comes and goes. Was it really there to start with?

He got into his car and sat still for a few seconds. Hands on the wheel, fingertips skimming the leather beneath them. This was his last memory of college, the only thing that he can call his. No family stayed. Nicky packed as soon as they graduated and took off to Germany. No one knows if he'll return. Why would he anyway? He's got a life there, a boyfriend that he loves; that's all he needed, that's all he needs. Aaron went and got married to a cheerleader that was attached to him since their first year, and that broke their deal. _'His brother'_ was the first one to let go of him. So that's a closed off subject, one that he would never let on and dwell on too often, but to be a reminder of what reality is truly like.

It felt like years sitting there and he finally managed to dispel his brain ghosts and drive off to his apartment. Said apartment was on the 19th floor of an almost abandoned building. Only four residents, and they were scattered on different floors so he didn't really care to know which or whom lived there.

The parking lot was always empty, just an old beaten up car that was always parked there. It seemed like it's been there for ages, rust eating at its ends and dust covering most of its paint that was indistinguishable by now. He walked to the building opening, a creaking old sliding door, and pushed forward, leaving it to close by itself. The hall was deserted as always, just some plain yellow light on both sides illuminating the empty desk and the very much big space. The elevator door opening pulled him out of his blank thoughts and he hurried his steps to catch it before it closed. A short woman passed him with a side glance that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He didn’t recognize her, and that meant only one thing, this was the first time he saw her.

She was a little thing, if that was what he called people his height. Short brown hair that gave the impression of gold, but maybe that was just the light effect. Plain clothes with a red waist band and a short vest. All this he took into memory while passing her and getting into the elevator just before the doors closed. He never got to hear the front door's creak when it was opened.

_____________________________________________

 

Neil couldn't manage to push himself down the barely lit stairs. He was still living in the remnants of that dream. It was more real than he had ever had, and he was getting more of that lately. But it never was enough to shake him like this, to get under his skin and pull out all of those memories back to this reality. A reality that took years to build on a somewhat shattered basis.

So he went to the elevator and kept pushing on the call button till it was getting up to him. He was living on one of the middle floors for a change. True, the building was mostly deserted, that's what the landlord told him when he chose to rent an apartment here. The building was scheduled for destruction two years ago, but events made that an impossibility every time. That didn't mean that the decision was cancelled. Neil was told that he'd be alerted beforehand once it was up for destruction. But so far, nothing had come up. So he lived on one of the middle floors, not way up on top, and not all the way down on the bottom floors. It gave him some sense of security, a feeling of reassurance that he's still got more, more floors to go up once he came from his shitty job, more floors to change your mind, once you decided to run from your hypothetical demons. It kept him there long enough that he counted the days he lived there. Eighty-four days so far. Another in the making.

He was so lost in his own messed up mind, counting floors up and down and how long would it take him, how much would his heart rate be if he ran all the way up, then down again. Just to assure himself that he can run but he can't leave this, when the doors of the elevator opened and he was startled by the light inside it.

It took him a second to realize that the compartment wasn't empty. A dark blond— a short man stood there in all black clothes, and he was staring at him. Neil considered standing there and waiting for the lift to come back again empty, but then he decided against it and stepped in.

The elevator doors closed behind him and Neil stood at the corner leaning his back against the wall. The young man standing across from him kept staring up ahead as if he wasn't staring at Neil on purpose just few seconds ago. Neil took that change and started analyzing his posture and his facial expressions, which didn't reveal much. He had one of the most empty expressions Neil had ever seen and he had seen a lot. He dedicated his life to studying that, sensing if danger came from anyone beside him, across from him, trying to decipher their intentions and actions. It was just his experience. He hadn't much of an education to support it; he couldn't afford to go to college. Neil was a total broke man by high school.  
True, his uncle had been of a little help when it came to his first days living alone. He couldn't bear living with him anymore, though. Not with all the past standing like a wall between them, not with all the memories that they each brought to the surface just by their looks. But this time, it was all his, he's got a job, started saving up few years ago and now he could afford his own apartment rent without needing to call his uncle. He couldn't stand the looks he gave him anymore. Like it was his fault, like he was _him._ Like he saw a mistake.

The guy didn't say much, and Neil was comforted by that. His mind wasn't.

The elevator was moving upwards when suddenly it stopped. The light flickered and went off.

"You must be fucking me," Neil heard from across the compartment.

"Did it stop or did it just break down?" Neil echoed back.

"Just broke down? That choice is inferior to the first to you?" he asked nonchalantly. "Talk about priorities."

Neil just stared at his more darker figure considering the whole compartment was engulfed in shadows right now.

This was okay, this was okay as long as it didn't take much to restart functioning.  
So he stood there, trying to even his breathing for the lack of better things to do. The other man didn't make another sound, you could barely hear his breathing from across that square shaped block of metal hanging in the air more than fifteen floors off the ground.

Yeah, that was totally okay by him.

Seconds turned to minutes and minutes started to merge and make a bundle that choked the air and made it thick with imprisoned energy. Neil couldn't bear the silence nor the accelerating beat and the palpitations of his heart that were starting to get bothersome. He debated pacing the small space but he knew nothing of the man across from him and he didn’t want to know how little space he actually had to add to his building anxiety. His legs were a dead weight. It was like they weren't his anymore, like something with a mind of its own itching to move, leave, run from everything. Just move.

So he did the complete opposite of what he wanted, he sat.

He let his back slide on the corner behind him and pulled his knees towards him. Just to make sure everything stayed in place. Rested his head against the wall and willed his body to relax. If this was getting longer, he had to endure it. He couldn't change anything, it wasn't new anyway. Him changing anything. He couldn't change his past, couldn't change his father, couldn't predict his behavior or actions. Couldn't save her. He was the one at fault. He just existed like an object waiting for the external forces to change him.

He was so lost in his thoughts and self-hatred that the smell of burning nicotine brought him back with a jolt. The guy in front of him at the other corner was also sitting with what appeared to be one bent knee and the other leg crossed in front of him. And most importantly, a cigarette dangling between his limp fingers. It was the only source of light in the small space but it was like the whole sun to him.

This was her thing. If he remembered anything good about his mother, it would be with the burn of cigarettes, the smell of nicotine and the uprising smoke, so light and gray that he imagined it got mixed with the darkest of his fears to make his chest a little lighter.

He was eight, and his mother was waiting for him after school in her beaten up car, sunglasses pulling her golden locks out of her eyes, elbow dangling out of the car's open window, a smile drawn on her face. Long sleeved blouse even in the heat to hide her marred blue skin. A memory from his father's visits. They weren't perfect, but they existed, together. She had a job, two jobs actually. But he never felt alone. Always in touch, most of the time he'd be there with her, whether it be in the staff room or in the backroom of the bookstore she worked extra hours in. It didn't matter, she never left him. Always insisting he learns new things, saying it'll do him good up there, pointing at his head gently with a gun motion, if he was ever bored.

She was right, his mind never left him alone, never bored. Always on a high alert, forever restless.

She'd stay with him on her breaks, smoking as many cigarettes as she could in that time. Asking him about his homework, or his school friends. Throwing random words in different languages so he could pick them up, saying it never hurts to know what people are saying around you, you'll never know.

He tried one once at that age, she left one not really stubbed but halfway there. He picked it up as soon as the door closed and took it all in. He coughed his eyes out that day but it was worth it, that was his mother's perfume to him.

Neil was abruptly brought back again to the dark compartment by a voice calling out to him, he assumed it was him since he was the only other person.

"I said, do you want one? You're staring," said the blond man in an even tone reflecting ease and comfort. It was like this was normal to him, stuck in an elevator with a complete stranger for what looked to be an hour by now, his legs were complete aliens to him, too numb to feel that itch anymore. Good, he thought.

He nodded at the man, and forgot that there was no light and said a weak "yes," as a reply. He got a lighter and a pack thrown at him as expected from the guy and they somewhat fell right into his hands. Heem, good aiming. His eyes must've adjusted to the darkness while he was stuck in his own head, again.

He shook one out and lit it after the second try. His fingers pressed it gently so it wouldn't fall or crumble between them and held it close to him so he could let the smoke curl around his face, and took a deep breath.

It calmed him, brain shutting down for a few moments to let him relax to the smell and get his heart to beat at a normal rhythm that wouldn't make him feel his pulse in his thumbs. He managed to stretch his legs in front of him to let the blood flow back and nourish them to life again.

"Waste of a good cigarette," drawled the voice across from him. He didn't want to avert his eyes from the burning end, so he just hummed in agreement.

"Give them back." The man added, and only then did Neil realize that he still had the pack and the lighter. So he threw them back at him. Same as him, right into his hands without even looking.

"You live here I assume," said the guy. It wasn't a question really, just a statement, so he didn't bother to answer.

"Great social skills, add that to the list of issues you have," he added.

What? Why was he even talking to him? It wasn't like they knew each other or had met before. So he guessed that the man was bored and wondered how much time had passed already. So he voiced that.

"How long has it been since the elevator stopped?" He asked again without looking.

"90 minutes," said the man looking at his flip phone.

"Don't you have the landlord's number? Try calling him to work this problem out," he asked wondering why he hadn't thought of that earlier.

"Out of reach. Can't get to him," he answered pushing random buttons with a fast pace. What was he doing? Typing a message? He guessed that would work as a precaution but that can take more hours and he can't think of that possibility now.

"Try calling someone, that might get things to move faster, or call 911."

"What's the point? We're the ones out of reach, no signal. We're cut out," he said without a hint of nervousness or panic within his words. How could he be so calm about this, while Neil barely held himself together? And the silence was already getting to him so he might as well keep the exchange alive.

"So what are you doing?" He was a little curious with all that fast pressing buttons and eyes moving nystagmically. His face was the most lit thing in the small room. The angle of the light drawing new shadows on his face, blond hair standing out more in the dim light.

The guy didn't make any motion or a hint to answer him so Neil only took it as fair for ignoring his somewhat of a question earlier. He was startled when the light of the small phone screen turned to him, barely managing to see the logo on the screen before the guy turned it back and resumed his previous occupation.

He was playing Snake.

Neil couldn't help but snort at the guy's antics. They were stuck in an elevator 15 floors up, no signal, no one to call or help them, and the guy was playing the oldest game ever created.

"Priorities," he added not so long after. He got a little huff at that, and they went back into their shared silence.

Time kept on stretching. Space filled with nothing but his breathing that he was trying to keep as slow as he can, and the beeping from across the compartment. There was nothing to do really. Especially him. He left his phone.. dead phone, on the kitchen counter because he had no use of it. He only had 3 numbers and nothing that he could do with them since there was no signal. He wouldn't contact his uncle anyway.

He entertained himself by spelling words in the languages he knew. Then moved on to counting. He was reaching the four thousands when he felt weightless for a split second. The sound of metal scratching on metal so close that it made his hair stand on end. They were starting to fall. But for some reason, it stopped just after.

"Something's not right. The cables shouldn't allow this skidding. How old is this building?" He asked no one in particular while keeping his hands on both wall and door, like they would somehow save him from the crash if that happened.

"Old,” was all he got for an answer.

He didn't know the exact age of it but since it was out for destruction he just made a wild guess. "Still no signal?" he couldn't help but ask. At least he could make up his mind whether there was still hope they might get rescued before it went down even more.

"No," the man from across him said as he checked his phone once again and then leaned his arm forward and put the lit phone in the middle of the floor. Dim light reflected by the metal walls made it a little easier to form shapes. Then he shook his pack again and pulled two cigarettes offering him one after he lit it. Neil took it without a question.

"Guess we're stuck here," the man announced after he took a deep drag, breathing it all in for a long while.

Guess they were, not so much to do now after all. There was nothing to do when the universe had other plans for you, was there? It wouldn't be the first time anyway.

"Don't you think we have to save oxygen since we're both trapped here?" he said, leaning his face as close to the smoke as he could without burning his face.

"Wouldn't change anything, we're dead either way. Unless you want to wait for the crash." He took another deep drag then answered," but that won't happen since we'll have at least 16 hours if not more, and it'll only be uncomfortable."

"You know much about elevators?" Neil couldn't help but ask.

"It's called common knowledge," the guy answered in a static voice that gave nothing away.

Neil scoffed at that, the guy was definitely messing with him. Who knew how many hours he had to breath in a closed up space?  
Neil did, but that didn't change the fact that it wasn't usual.

"You're an elevator engineer now?"

The man gave him a hooded glare that Neil didn’t shy away from and kept staring at him.

"That's your question?"

"What?" Neil really didn't know where that came from but there was nothing he could do, if the man was taking his rhetorical question as one, he'd take it. "Yes, that's my question," he added just a moment later.

"No, now's my turn. What's your name?" He asked.

Neil was thrown again to the reality of this reveal. The man tricked him, took a rhetorical one and wanted to get answers of his own. He couldn't help but huff at his own silliness and answer. No escaping this place anyway.

"Neil. What's yours?"

The guy lifted an eyebrow at that and took yet another long drag. It was as if he wanted to finish the whole thing in one go, while Neil's bearely reached its middle length. He blew smoke in Neil's direction and answered, " Andrew."

"Andrew," Neil repeated motioning for him to take his turn. Both of the man's eyebrows lifted at that.

"Neil, you aren't afraid of plummeting to your death," asked Andrew in his, obviously normal, static voice, which Neil took as a question because why not?

"No, why aren't you?" he asked. He already knew he wasn't, there was no sign of panic in his voice or his behavior.

Andrew averted his eyes, throwing the butt of his cigarette at his feet and took to playing with his lighter. On and off, he played with it. As far as Neil could tell in the dim light of the phone, it was a dark color cap lighter. Old fashioned, or so he guessed as he had no idea about fashion. He seemed lost in his own head; unfocused bleary eyes pointed right ahead, no longer attached to the present. Did the question hit someplace close? Was it that difficult? Death?

"I don't know," he finally answered, and Neil believed him. He himself didn't know about anything in his life apart from that. That belief was beaten into him by his own failures and past. So why wouldn't it be the complete opposite to the rest of the world, to this guy. To Andrew.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there! it has been a year and yes, it is for Lea's birthday.  
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! to my little lemon-pie! i love you  
> (couldn't re-edit again! seems that chrome is messing with me)

   

The doors opening to a scarred face with startling blue eyes was not what Andrew had anticipated. He was not affected by it. He wasn't affected by the elevator shutting down and starting to plunge them to their deaths.

He was, though, a little curious about the one sitting across from him. The man, Neil, as he calls himself, wasn't even concerned about that. His body reflexes were betraying him. He couldn't help but grab for the walls as if that would've changed anything. They were done for.

The time kept on ticking and the cigarettes started to make a little dune beside his feet, and that was more telling about the time as it was telling about his fear of death. And that is nothing. Cigarettes were a habit, a daily routine that kept him in check, made his breath hot and warm inside, not that Aaron would agree, but who cares about Aaron when he's got his little Barbie girl playing doctor around him 24/7.

They were familiar.

Sunsets and sunrises and swarms of orange and cars and different weathers of five fucking long years that he could remember every moment of, every little scrawny detail that manhandled him into more nothingness than he already had.

Kevin was all into Exy and training and drinking in-between. Which added more monotonousness into his life. He couldn't deal with him, crumbling and chattering every time his ex-teammate made a jab at him. Everytime he saw the scars in his front arm. Andrew has a lot of those, a little darker past resurfacing just by the glimpses at those slithering white lines decorating his front arms. But he already made peace with them, as Bee says, so they're long forgotten. By choice.

He couldn't see them now; in the dark, covered by armbands. But he can just map them with his eyes as long as he wanted.

It must've been reaching the five hours since they were here. The phone will not last much longer using its full battery as a torch. He'd rather spend his last moments doing what he liked, smoking, and watching whatever shadow that was across from him.

Said shadow stopped staring at him a while ago after he deliberately ignored him. His questions were... he couldn't yet pinpoint a word to them so that was something.   

He made waiting a little bit bearable, a little bit tempting to even wait, with only two or three choices, one left just as a mind-play to reassure himself that he's over that 'phase' now. For a man who had nothing, he had a choice with his life. Well, for the little that's left of it. The other two were either wait, as he usually does. Wait for the metal box to crumble and smash them all to a pulp fast enough so he wouldn't even think of feeling pain and maybe laughing about the irony of it. Or... or just make a thing of the shadow to bring more interest to the time that's left.

 

It was his turn to stare at him. Maybe make a reaction out of it, make a little spark to that fiery hair or those eyes... the light wasn't enough for any color to show, so it was just shades of black. But he knew better when they were focused on him. He had a story behind that calm mask, and Andrew wanted it.

Their little conversation wasn't much of a reveal. Neil, as he says his name is, knew more than he let on, had more than he believed and his last question rattled him more than he could let on. He thought that he was over, that he was beyond the stage of life-is-not-for-me. He still didn't know why, why the hesitance. Why not just answer "No" and be over with it. He guessed it was the height but since the plummeting he didn't even know how far off the ground he was, he had nothing to look out for or someone to worry about. It was just him. Was that...

So he went blunt and voiced his mangled thoughts to a stranger. "I don't know."

He still didn't, but thinking about it leads nowhere so he gave it up.

Neil though, he can think of that. Not afraid of death, that was true, but his body betrayed him, and that says something about a man. It was a lesson learned the hard way. Would he want to know that? Sure. But now? Heem…

 

________________________________________________________________________________

 

It wasn’t that Neil was lost in thought, it was that he was on the path to unlocking something in his own mind. The right way, the right questions, the right…Something, if only he knew what.

Right now, he decided to let the right questions aside and busy himself with a little wandering down memory lane. Why was he here? Sure, he wanted to go for a run, he always went for a run, he was on a constant run; that was the sum of his life, the short while he got as a life at that.

He wanted to go for a run- he was in the need of a run because he had a nightmare, because he had a dream. The same dream repeatedly for… More than 40 days, give or take a few that he couldn’t even remember if he was awake enough to count as a day. 

It was severe enough to not make a difference between reality and a dream, that’s because it was a reality to begin with. But why now? Why here? Why just lately and not after that… Incident, as many had chose to call it including his uncle.

If he learned anything in his life, it was that everything lead to something, and everything started somewhere as something. Very eloquent of him but no time to polish his thoughts. He felt the urge to untangle a reason to everything before his time ran out. And it was running out. He was running out of time a long time ago that this might even be considered a borrowed time. Maybe he was borrowing it from the only person that might be the one and only collateral damage in all of this.

Andrew.

Not like he could apologize for what he couldn’t understand or make it up to him by saving him by any means possible, which were impossible at this point, seeing that there were no openings but the closed metal doors. It was a sealed fate, if you believed in damned ones that were destined to him his entire life.

There must have been a reason, if he could just…

A cigarette butt hit him in the face.

 _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 The shadow was so lost in his little mind that he didn’t hear his own name. Andrew didn’t like repeating himself much.

A cigarette ending ended up hitting hit face for his trouble.

That did the trick, with not much of a reaction but the weight of an unseen glare. And it itched at Andrew. It itched all the way from his cortex to the tip of his twitching fingers. An idea that pulled a physical reaction out of him. He wouldn’t let that go. He had to play with it, pull at its threads, move it around. The concept of him has taken no shape but a bundle of questions that he didn’t even know, and that’s a first. Why did the world give this to him right before his death?

“what did you do?” he asked, choosing to look at every inch of him, not much by the look of it, and absorbing every dark angle and shadow of his body to memory.

“About what?” said shadow answered. It seemed that they were on the same wave of thinking so it wouldn’t take much.

“To lead yourself into this,” Andrew said with a tilt of his chin indicating their surroundings, the elevator, the situation...whatever suited your liking of words.

“Huh,” a little huff of air that was the only sign of a little laugh. “What makes you think that it was me? What did _you_ do? You don’t exactly fit the innocent profile of _anything.”_

 _Huh,_ true. But he didn’t want to indulge his obviously sassy _profile._ Two people can play that game.

“Me?” Andrew said with as much hurt that he could muster, which wasn’t much. “I’m the perfect image of innocence,” a single eyebrow creeped up.

“Point made.” And silence resumed again.

“I had my downs,” emitted Neil after a long stretch of time. Andrew decided to go with their little honesty challenge just to get something out of him, even if it meant to put his own.

“I had my downs,” he countered.

“It was my father,” a tone as monotonous as Andrews’ voiced the truth.

“It was my step-brother,” he countered again with the same wave length tone.

“I killed him.”

“I killed them.”

And the silence resumed.

                                                                                        ***

A huff of air cut through it eventually and it wasn’t as suppressed as the previous one.

“I guess that we both fit the _profile_ ,” resumed Neil from his unlit corner.

Add that to the list that’s been building itself in Andrew’s mind. It was more now than in the beginning. The interest was right, this wasn’t just a normal encounter, this was a lot more than that. The chances of two killers meeting at an elevator to just _die,_ living in the same place without encountering till this moment? None.

So he lit another cigarette, passing another lit one to Neil, to which he had to lean all the way to the middle of the elevator, therefore right above the light emitting from the phone.

His eyes were focused on the cigarette held between them both, but once they lifted to meet Andrew’s own, they were searching all of his face for something just to return to his eyes and stay there. Andrew’s guess was whatever that he was searching for, he must’ve found it because he retreated muttering a little “Thanks,” and he was in the shadows once more. Too bad, because the light seemed to fit him just as good.

Back to his own position, back to his initial thought. Why were they here? Sure, they fit the _profile,_ as Neil decided to call it, but it seemed that it was more Andrews’ than Neil’s that fit. First time for everything, he mused. If the universe chose this moment to make him _fit,_ well, he wasn’t one for cooperation. Time to bring out the knives, he mused. If he were to die, he weren’t willing to let another death on his hands, especially one that he had no call in making.   

 

 

 

The cigarette was barely in the middle when the guy in front of him stood up. The alarm bells ringing loudly in the back of his head were hard to ignore; something bad was about to happen.

“Andrew-, “he cut himself short for the lack of anything to say. Stance ready to counter any wrong move coming his way all the time blaming himself for the misjudge of character. He caught the glimmer of a blade and he went completely still. “Andrew...” he repeated, ice starting to coat his veins and enveloping his very being at the sight of the knife. He could disarm him, he could get the knife and get rid of him easily, it was just that he didn’t think that he had to, he thought that he wouldn’t need to-

All thoughts came to a stop as Andrew got the tip of the knife stuck in-between the two metal doors and started to slide them open with nothing but brute force.

“What are you doing?” came the question even though he knew he understood what Andrew was doing, it was just that he was still frozen from the sight of the knife.

“Obviously, I am trying to get us out of here, unless you want to stay here and wait for death to come up,” he answered through gritted teeth, the only sign of the amount of force he was using to open the doors, and they were, opening.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He couldn’t help but feel that something was indeed wrong, panic aside and thoughts of Andrew attacking him now done and over with, there was still that ringing in the back of his head, like a warning about the unknown.

Andrew slid the doors a little more ajar with his own hands now that there was a little space and managed to get them apart enough for one of them to get out. Apparently, they were between two floors because the floor/ceiling was a meter above the elevator level. Taking it’s thickness into account, there wasn’t enough room that they could slide beneath it. The only way out was to climb to the upper floor.

And that was exactly what Andrew was doing. Something _was_ not right and Neil barely managed a “WATCH OUT!” making a move towards Andrew as fast as he could because they were falling again.

 

 

He was just making his way up to the floor in front of him, pulling himself up and forward, just a little and he’ll be out, when he felt weightless for a fraction of a second before a strong grip on his waist pulled him backwards inside again.

Nothing mattered in that instant, reflexes deep as the bone kicked in and he reached back with his elbow connecting to something slightly soft, arms tightening once more against him and a huff of air behind his ear before the floor came rushing towards him once more.

The impact wasn’t as hard as he anticipated as the arms slackened around him and he was moving away, freeing himself as fast as he could, putting his back to the wall and waiting for his heart rate to slow down.

Few second was the time that it took for his heart to go back to normal pacing, few other to notice that it was a little darker that it was, and to realize that he had extracted two knives and he was holding them with a death grip that it was starting to ache towards whatever it was that grabbed him.

The shadow, Neil. Shit.

Putting his knives back so he wouldn’t do more damage in case they fell again, and that was it. They fell and he was gonna incapacitate himself between the floor and the elevator if it weren’t for Neil. Neil, who he had hit and cushioned the fall and apparently even the impact with the ceiling, was now laying unmoving before him.

 He got the phone from underneath Neil’s shorts, he must’ve fallen on top of it, and moved it to his face.

“Neil,” he didn’t mean it to come out as a whisper, so he repeated. “Neil.”

Nothing, he wasn’t moving. The right jaw was red and moving to purple, so that was what his elbow connected with. Shit, he didn’t mean to hit _him_. It wasn’t his fault, no one dared to touch him, not even catch him unguarded from behind at that.

It wasn’t his fault.

He moved the light to his chest, and to his complete relief, he was still breathing. He released a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.

“NEIL!” and that did the trick. Eyes snapped open and arms attacking whomever was in range of contact. Andrew barely managed to move in time.

It took a few harsh breaths for Neil to come back to his senses, only to lean back again against the wall and close his eyes muttering a little “Ow!”

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he didn’t mean to yell, but apparently, his own anger at himself was forced out him unconsciously.

Neil winced at the loud voice. Andrew clenched his teeth for some reason.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t.”

He took a deep breath and moved forward, as slow as he could in the narrow place, trying not to corner Neil as it seemed that they had the same _problem_.

“Can I?” moving his hand up to Neil’s face, hoping he got the right implication.

“yes.” And Andrew moved forward enough that he was on his knees in front of Neil, who closed his eyes, something that he shouldn’t do in the company of strangers, but he was. He wasn’t thinking.

Andrew tried to be as gentle as he could, which wasn’t much, because Neil kept wincing to the minimum touch of his fingers but not a sound came out. He had bruise forming of his right cheek bone, two cuts from both the impacts to the ceiling- back right side of his skull- and the floor -left temple- that were bleeding slowly but constantly, a line already forming it’s way to the collar of his shirt. Andrew was moving to see if his shoulder next but was stopped by a simple “No.” so he stopped.

“Congratulations, you managed to give yourself a concussion,” he surmised as Neil couldn’t open his eyes near the slight (dim) phone-light, so he turned it off.

“What else did you hit?” he had to know. Part of this was his fault. It wasn’t his fault.

“Everything?” a slight smirk obvious in his voice. “It’s fine, just a little headache,” he added. “The fall was much faster than the previous one, we couldn’t possibly have hit the ceiling that hard.”

It was strange, the first fall wasn’t much comparing to this. It was as if it was moved by another force adding more speed to the fall than normal. True, the elevator old, it is apparent but the lack of breaks, or useful ones at that. The only changes that were done were from the outside, make it look beautiful and shiny so no one knows that’s it’s rusty as the titanic. There weren’t that many habitants in the building to start with. Four; himself, Neil, that short women apparently, and another resident.

And whomever dared to rent an apartment here, he didn’t care much about safety as much as he cared about the price, lack of is more precise. The building itself was set for demolition, and if that says something, it makes it perfectly clear that no renovations have been made or even thought of.

That’s one part, the other remains with the extra force pushing them downwards. It was as if it was trying to kill them, to make _sure_ they were killed. But...That doesn’t make any sense, if someone, or _something_ was trying to kill them, why didn’t they just push them all the way down? Why make them wait and fall few meters or floors each time. Maybe it was just trying to kill him, as he was going out, but Neil canceled those plans. The idiot. If the universe wanted him dead, he wasn’t one to interfere. Seems that someone has a little martyr streak for perfect strangers. And who quite for a while. That wasn’t good.

“Neil.” That didn’t work. “NEIL!” that worked to a certain extant to only draw a muffled groan out of the guy. Andrew turned on the torch and held it in Neil’s way, only to find his shirt more damp in blood that it was a while ago. How long was he lost in his own mind??

He moved forward again to stop a fraction away from the man, he wouldn’t cross a line drawn for him. He was a little pale in the dim light, brows furrowing at the close proximity of the light to his eyes. That was a good sign, he was still conscious.

“Neil,” he called again. He had to keep him awake. He’d seen more concussions in those five years to know that sleeping isn’t good. Aaron would know. Banish the thought.

“Move it away,” Neil managed to finally react to the light fixed right in front of his eyes.

Andrew took a deep breath and settled right in front of him, he had to keep watch.

“What did you do Neil?” he asked again, hoping for any reaction to keep the man awake.

“Nothing,” answering without opening his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> so?


End file.
